I once knew a girl—a living Russian doll—
who lived inside herself inside herself in side her
self, and arranged her memories in a
library of half lived days,
half-forgotten in the morning
because exhaustion is exhausting and my car’s
exhaust is theoretical, because
I could leave this place behind if I had a car.
If I had learned how to drive.
T.R. Cook is not so patiently waiting for the day she can leave Earth behind and live out her days in a human/robot society. Until then, she writes and can be found on twitter @quantumseas.